Watched, Part One


At the corner of the couch, lying partially upright, she sat between his legs with her back against his chest, one leg outstretched on the cushion and the other draping off the front of the cushion. His strong arms enveloped her, and the fleecy softness of the gray blanket caressed her skin with each subtle movement, his fingertips stroking her upper arms as he praised her one more time.

“You did so well, Love. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she purred, his words weaving themselves into her veins, making her skin tingle.

“I love that everyone knows that you’re mine.”

Coming out in a low growl, the ‘mine’ shivered down her spine as his hand came up to her neck, palm flat against the front of her throat, his fingers and thumb slowly gripping just above her collar, beneath her jawline. She loved nothing more than to know she’d made him proud, but that particular word made a home in her chest. One syllable spoke an entire lifetime of feeling, 23 years of love, perseverance, and commitment. Ownership. It spoke directly to her essence – she belonged to him.

As his other hand kneaded her breasts, squeezing until she gasped, plucking at her nipples with a rough pinching and pulling, she wriggled a bit at the pain/pleasure. The stinging welts on her ass and up her back rubbed against him, the ouchy, bruised spots on her sit bones so sensitive as her weight slightly shifted. Her core clenched involuntarily, over and over, spasms of fire shooting straight between her legs.

He must have known that’s what would happen, because his hand cupped her cleanly-shaven mound, the warmth of his palm against the baby-soft skin causing her to moan. And want. Fingers barely grazed the delicate skin, up and down, like butterfly flutterings, teasing her need to the surface. Eyes closed, her body molded to his, relaxing into the safety and softness. The rise and fall of her chest synced with his, and her focus was solely on how he made her feel. She was lost in him.

In the peripheral, she heard the buzzing sound, but didn’t realize it was coming from under the blanket until she felt his arm rest on her thigh, the vibration traveling from his flesh into hers. Unconsciously biting and rolling her lip between her teeth, her chest heaved with irregular, nervous breaths.

“Keep your legs just as they are. Trust me,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek.

Suddenly, a sharp, brow-furrowing, open-mouthed intake of air stilled her chest, seizing her breathing altogether. The buzzing hum took its place within her, as he positioned the vibrator between her legs. Head fallen back against him and eyes shut, she wasn’t even sure how long she’d been holding her breath when she heard him speak again.

“Breathe, Love. And keep your eyes open.”

Opening her eyes, the realization hit her.

Oh, God, everyone can see.

That knowledge spread its tentacles through her, blooming in her cheeks and a creating a small knot which began to twist around in her belly. She forced her chest to rise and her lungs to accept the air. It was cooler than she remembered it being just a bit ago when she was naked in front of these same people, which struck her as odd. The coolness drawn into her nostrils and permeating her insides made her acutely aware of the contrasting heat flushing her cheeks, and the magnetic warmth between them under the blanket.

Scanning the room from face to face, she knew for certain that many people were watching the happenings in the room. They weren’t the only people playing, and for that she was very grateful, but, they were the only ones playing in this way, as all the others were using massage tables, the rope station, or the cross. This felt much more personal to her, even though what he had done to her on the spanking bench was soul-deep, a connection that had to have been evident to anyone watching. But this was something they’d never shared with anyone else.

Holy shit, they are going to see me orgasm.

-image via Tumblr

I Imagine


There she is. 

I’ve seen her a few times before, passing by on the nearby running trail, then inside the coffee shop afterward. Fidgeting while I waited, sipping my coffee, I’ve been hoping she’d be here, wanting to see her again. 

Standing a few feet away from the pick-up counter, leaning against the wall, she periodically looks up from her phone, while she waits. She’s probably thinking of what she’ll make for dinner, what errand she needs to run, or what bill needs to be paid, oblivious to my stare.

My eyes are always drawn to her, and today is no exception. In fact, I’m taken aback. I honestly don’t think I’ve blinked since I noticed her. I’d thought she was beautiful before, all natural and in her running gear, but…wow. Today, she isn’t wearing her running clothes, she’s dressed comfortably, with a casual elegance about her. 

She takes my breath away. 

Her light brown, knit sweater has a low neck, draping in folds to reveal her collarbones, and I can’t stop staring. I’m mesmerized by the way the thin bones angle slightly upward, her skin dipping down between the bone and the rounded shoulder muscle, begging for attention. They’re exquisite, perfect really. 

The drape of her sweater at its lowest point rests upon her full, round breasts, showing off their firmness. Dark and tight, her jeans hug the curve of her backside, which flows effortlessly to muscular legs, accentuated by the way the jeans tuck into her knee high, brown leather, riding boots. They have a slight heel, making her a bit taller, but still a few inches shorter than me. 

A sun-kissed, olive tone, her complexion is marked with a few stray freckles, my eyes dancing from one to the next, in anticipation.
Straight and sandy-brown, with caramel highlights, her hair hangs just past her shoulders, smooth and shiny. And with eyes a subtle brown, and thin, perfectly shaped lips a dark shade of pink, her face is kind, welcoming, content.

One of other women I often see stops to chat with her, and I’m instantly envious. She smiles as she talks, her expression at once tender and animated, emanating an aura of sultriness. Her hands move as she speaks, delicate and soft looking, with manicured nails on thin fingers. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, her hips move with a fluid confidence.

I stand from my stool to take a few steps closer so I can hear, not because I want to hear what she’s saying, but because I just need to hear the sound of her voice. Without looking, I listen, not wanting her to know I’m paying her too much attention, nor drawing any attention to myself. I hear a silvery voice that is smooth, airy and confident. Sexy. I get the feeling when she speaks, she means exactly what she says.

As I listen, I can’t help myself. I imagine.

I imagine what it might be like to trace her perfect collarbones with my fingertips. To walk up to her, reaching my arm behind her head to slowly move her silky hair to the side, so I can lean in and lick the dips in the skin, tracing up her neckline with my tongue, leaving a chilly, wet trail all the way to her magnificent breasts. 

I wonder if she’d be still, or if she’d sway, moving those fluid hips, shifting her weight to be nearer my touch as I cup those breasts, massaging them, biting them. I imagine that sultry voice, how her head might lean down over mine so she can whisper in my ear how good I feel, begging me not to stop. 

My stomach is in knots thinking of how smooth and delicate her palms might feel gripping my face, as my tongue touches those beautifully thin lips, reveling in the softness and warmth of her. I want to know how her fingers might feel tangled in my hair, how her nails might dig into my back as I make her moan. 

I imagine my hands covering her ass as I push her back into that wall, pulling her body into mine, our legs entwined, thighs pushing up between one other’s legs. My face is flush as I imagine her breathy moans when I slide my hand into the front of her jeans to feel how wet she is, running my fingers back and forth over her folds, finding her sweet spot to rub in small, quick circles. 

Most of all, I imagine those luscious, brown eyes looking into mine, filled with hunger while I tell her to come for me. 

My pants are quickly getting tighter, and my breathing has quickened, threatening to reveal my thoughts to those around me. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, and now I’m the one shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying to persuade my body to calm down. 

Needing to take a quick breather, I walk toward the restroom, heading in her direction. Just as I’m almost in front of her, she looks up, eye to eye with me, and smiles. I smile back, keeping eye contact until I’m past, then walk into the restroom. As I splash cold water on my face, I decide I must introduce myself as soon as I’m finished. I need to hear her voice, to see her smile again. 

Hurrying, I open the door and turn the corner to find her….but she’s gone. 

-image found on Pinterest, saved from; shared also as part of Masturbation Monday

The Quiet Game


The vibrator wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just odd feeling. Shaped like the letter C, the flatter part was inserted and resting on her g-spot, while the other end looped up to rest tightly on her clit. It was snug against both spots, a lovely reminder, even as it was turned off, that he was there, that she belonged to him. As Eva stood there before him, she didn’t really know what to think of it, but her heart was thumping. There was no denying her excitement – the thrill of wearing it in public. The possibilities……

“There are a few rules. You must stay quiet, no matter what I do with this remote, no matter where we are,” Jay said, with an evil smirk. “And, if I allow you to come, I want your eyes open, looking into mine, the entire time. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ll allow panties this evening, given the circumstances. You’re going to be a dripping mess and I don’t want this to fall out. You’ll wear these.”

Jay held the panties open by the band as he sat on the edge of the soft, paisley chair. They were the sheer, cream colored panties with toffee lace on the front, the ones that matched the bra he had laid out for her to wear earlier. Eva stepped carefully into the leg openings, first her left, then the right, holding onto Jay’s shoulder, leaning on him a little. She was trying so hard to concentrate, grasping the hem of her little black dress and pulling it upward a bit to see her feet as she stepped into the panties, revealing the tops of the Cuban stockings he had also laid out.

As Jay slid those sheer panties on, his fingers traced the soft curves of her calves, traveling to graze the backs of her knees, and she hissed, his touch sending a shiver up through her entire body, her nipples taut against that lace, toffee colored bra. When they finally came to rest, his hands came around to cup both ass cheeks and squeeze. Hard. Eva looked up from her feet, feeling Jay’s eyes on her, watching her face, looking into her eyes, and there was that coy grin again. He knew what he did to her; he knew she was putty in his hands.

Leaning over, Jay scooped up one heel, a beautiful six inch, black patent leather with a red bottom. He gripped her calf gently, prompting her to lift her foot, and slid his other hand down to her heel, guiding it forward to slip her foot into the shoe.

Eva wasn’t sure how she’d react to the vibrator in public, but she was already so fucking turned on and they hadn’t even left the apartment. He hadn’t even turned it on yet! She could feel those damn panties getting wet and she had only been wearing them for maybe two minutes.

Repeating the same for the other foot, Jay sat upright, leaned back in his chair and admired her. She was a masterpiece.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Eva. And you’re all mine.”

“Yes, Master, I am,” Eva replied, blushing a little. That word did something to her, and it probably always would. Mine. Oof.

“While we are out, you are to stay by my side at all times, unless you ask first or are told otherwise. I will take very good care of you, as always. I want you to relax, no fidgeting.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And don’t forget – stay quiet when I turn this on, or there will be consequences.”

Jay pulled the egg-shaped remote out of the pocket of his slim fitting, black suit pants and held it up. As his thumb pushed a small, white button, Eva’s panties ever-so-slightly hummed. Her clit and gspot felt the faintest of vibration. Eyes wide with surprise, Eva was just about to make a sound, then bit her lip instead. Jay just stood there, watching her. And that fucking grin, oh, God.

This is going to be the longest night of my life…

-image found on Tumblr

Time for Tea

*MATURE CONTENT* (also revised – I fixed some errors – I’m rusty at this, so please forgive the repost)

Finally, the girls had settled down and she’d gotten them tucked into bed. She exhaled in a deep sigh, walking down the short staircase, and went to the kitchen to do as he’d asked. Standing in front of the sink, Lana grinned as she put on the water for tea, hoping. She’d thought about him all day long. 

Behind her, she could hear the sure rhythm of strong footsteps approaching, and she could feel the butterflies begin to flutter in her belly.

How does he still do that? 

As he moved in quietly behind her, Rick leaned in and pressed himself against her, causing her to reach out and brace herself against the counter. Gently brushing her long, reddish-brown curls away from her ear, he whispered in his deep, scratchy voice, “Take off your clothes and come sit in front of my chair.”

Again, she did as he asked, first pulling her tan, linen blouse up and over her head, then she unbuttoned her dark, well-worn jeans. As she was lifting first her right leg to pull off her pants, then the left, she thought about how not long ago, she never would have done anything like this. It would have seemed ridiculous. 

Take off my clothes in the kitchen? Sit at his feet? Never, not in a million years. 

And now, as she unfastened her lacy, black bra, watching it fall at her feet, she realized she was not only willing, but compelled to do so. It fueled her.

Stepping out of her panties, the ones he’d chosen for her to wear just that morning, she walked to him, kneeling to sit at his feet, as usual. Because that’s where she has always belonged.

Sitting in his favorite chair, Rick leaned forward a bit to hand Lana the deep shade of red he’d chosen. “I’d like you to paint your toes,” he said. 

He sat back, and he watched. His eyes were drawn to the easy way in which she folded her knees up to her chest, not meaning to show off, but exposing herself to him, nonetheless. As she leaned over to paint, the delicate way in which she pinched the polish brush between her first two fingers, the gentle manner in which she swiped the drips from the brush onto the edge of the bottle just so, biting her bottom lip in concentration, the way she glided the brush across each nail with precision and grace – it drove him mad. She is so damn irresistible. 

Just as she finished the last nail, Rick rested on his knees in front of her, and locking her gaze, he wound the jute around her ankles, round and round, up and through the middle, the exquisite mix of the roughness of the rope and the softness of his touch sending shivers through her. 

Not at all what she’d expected, Lana was immediately off-balance, watching him, waiting to see what he expected of her, the anticipation building. 

As he handed her the polish again, expecting to watch as she so nimbly began painting her fingernails, the tea kettle whistled and beckoned to her. Her eyes moved up to meet his gaze again, and she said with a grin, “It’s gonna be really difficult to bring you that tea without spilling it.” 

Such a smart ass, but I wouldn’t change a thing, he thought to himself. 

Rick chuckled, stood, walked to the kitchen, calmly taking the kettle off the burner and returned to her.

“The tea and nails can wait, but I cannot,” he told her, bending to scoop her in his arms…

-photo credit Natashi Monko, found on Tumbr